


Our Jeffersonian Destiny

by canufeelthemagictonight



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adorable FitzSimmons (Agents of SHIELD), Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Field Trip, Fluff, For Science!, Friendship/Love, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Pre-Relationship, Set in 2010, Skye Ships It, Washington D.C., mentions of the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4972183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canufeelthemagictonight/pseuds/canufeelthemagictonight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>@Rally4Sanity: DC Fun Fact: Close your eyes at the Jefferson Memorial. First person you see upon opening them is required by law to marry you.</i>
</p><p>In which Jemma is skeptical, Fitz is a lab rat, and Skye is twenty dollars richer.</p><p>High school AU. Fitzsimmons with hints of other pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Jeffersonian Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> This story is living proof that I get inspiration from the strangest things.

Of the eight people (seven students, one teacher) in Mr. Coulson's group who set out on their Washington D.C. tour, only five actually make it downtown.

Mr. Coulson is the first to get sidetracked, which is ironic considering he's supposed to be the adult here. But alas, the Smithsonian collection of vintage Captain America memorabilia proves to be too much for his geeky heart to take, and his students are forced to abandon him or risk missing the bus to the Capitol building. Perhaps if Ms. May was here, she could keep him on track (their mutual crush has been so painfully obvious it's only a matter of time before their students collectively break down and scream JUST KISS ALREADY), but she's in a different part of town with a different group of students to handle. So that's that.

With all semblance of supervision gone, Lance Hunter and Bobbi Morse mysteriously vanish shortly after the group arrives at the Washington Monument. Skye Johnson screams their names for a full three minutes before scowling at an American flag and muttering something vaguely threatening under her breath. Everyone, of course, knows where they are; their on-again-off-again relationship has been the talk of Shield High for months. As it's apparently on again, the group decides to leave them to it and see the rest of Washington by themselves.

And so, by the time they reach the Jefferson Memorial, only five little monkeys still jump on the metaphorical bed. There's Alphonso Mackenzie, commonly known as Mack, who stops walking every five minutes to make sure nobody else has decided to take off for greener pastures. Skye is right behind him, but she's lost interest in Washington and is currently glued to her cell phone with a contented smile on her face. Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons walk together, deep in conversation, and Antoine "Trip" Triplett brings up the rear.

Suddenly, Skye stops dead in her tracks, sending the entire line skidding to a stop. "Whoa."

Mack winces. "Don't tell me: the lovebirds sent a snapshot."

"Oh, God." This from Jemma, who immediately throws her hands over her eyes as if to shield herself from the horrors of Skye's phone. "Don't show me, _please_ don't show me, I don't want to know, get it away from me..."

Fitz whimpers and attempts to hide behind his (sadly shorter) best friend, while Trip contents himself with staring into the camera like he's on _The Office._

"Guys." Skye's tone is stern, with a hint of what-am-I-going-to-do-with-these-idiots. "Calm. Down."

"But—"

"It's nothing like that!" She shakes her head. "Sheesh, way to jump to conclusions."

The group breathes a sigh of relief.

Skye continues talking. "It's this tweet. About the Jefferson Memorial. It's... _mind-blowing."_

"Mind-blowing?" Trip scoffs with a smile. "What's so mind-blowing about a monument to a guy who's been dead for years?" Then, with a twinkle in his eye, "Unless it's haunted..."

 _"It's not haunted,"_ Skye spits at him, preemptively shutting down any further freak-outs. "Besides, Halloween's _over._ Keep up."

"Then what is it?" ask Fitzsimmons in unison, identical expressions of curiosity on both their faces.

Skye tucks a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear, clears her throat, and reads the tweet out loud.

_@Rally4Sanity: DC Fun Fact: Close your eyes at the Jefferson Memorial. First person you see upon opening them is required by law to marry you._

"The Rally for Sanity?" Mack frowns. "I thought that was last month..."

"No, no, _no,_ you don't understand!" Skye's bouncing up and down, a crazy smile illuminating her face. "We are _literally at the Jefferson Memorial right now._ We—all of us—could find our future partners! Right here!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Jemma scoffs. "You can't believe _everything_ you see on the Internet."

"Jon Stewart is never wrong, Jem," Skye replies smugly.

"Jon Stewart or no Jon Stewart, there's no scientific basis behind that statement. You honestly can't expect me to believe that the Jefferson Memorial has some sort of magical powers that guide you towards your soulmate. It's like that appleseed-on-your-forehead trick, Skye, it means _nothing."_

Skye slips her phone into her pocket and turns to face Jemma, her arms crossed, her body language defiant. "Oh, yeah?" There's a dangerous edge in her voice—a challenge waiting to happen. "Prove it."

Jemma blinks. "Sorry?"

"Prove it." The taller girl closes in, like a lion stalking its much smaller prey. "Close your eyes, wander around for a while, and open them again."

"No!" The word comes out as a denial and an exclamation all at once. "You can't _possibly_ expect me to—"

"What's the matter, Simmons?" Skye demands. "Scared it'll work?"

"It _won't,_ it's just an Internet joke, it's not scientifically accurate—"

"Then what's the harm in trying?" Trip's voice is much more good-natured than Skye's—less of a challenge, more of a suggestion. "C'mon, girl. Just once. For science."

"Yeah," echoes Skye. "For science. C'mon."

"I—"

"I'll do it."

This sudden spurt of daring comes from one Leopold Fitz, who's spent the majority of this conversation silently backing Jemma up (though, judging by his body language, he's more open to the idea of Jefferson-induced soulmates than she is). But now, he steps forward, his arms tight against his sides, his blue eyes flashing warning signs in Skye and Trip's direction.

The look Jemma shoots his way is equal parts gratitude and trepidation. "Fitz?"

"Might as well." His tone is eerily casual. "I mean, it's _science._ What've I got to lose?"

Skye looks like Christmas and summer vacation came simultaneously. "Finally!" she practically squeals. "I love you _so much_ right now, Fitz, you have _no idea—"_

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Trip. Should've volunteered when you had the chance."

Jemma and Fitz share one of their private little Fitzsimmons Smiles, causing everyone else to melt into the background for about ten seconds. The moment gone, Fitz nods at Mack (who nods back in a silent good-luck gesture), takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes.

"Twenty bucks says it's Simmons," Skye hisses into Trip's ear.

Trip flashes the patented Antoine Triplett Sunshine Grin at her and whispers, "You're on."

 

Ever the scientist, Fitz spends the next several minutes "balancing the variables" involved in his endeavor. The other students are organized into a tight little circle around him, each precisely four feet away, watching their leader/test subject as he blindly stumbles around in the center. There's an empty space between Skye and Trip ("in case someone else happens along," Fitz explains as Skye sighs and shakes her head), and even the stopwatch Fitz received for his seventeenth birthday is currently being put to good use.

"Three minutes, twenty-seven seconds," Jemma reports, her eyes darting from the stopwatch to Fitz and back again.

Next to her, Skye is rolling her eyes at the clouds, though the remains of a reluctant smile still shine on her face. "Leave it to you two to turn soulmates into a science experiment."

"Your idea," Jemma chirps back.

Mack reaches out and puts a hand on Fitz's shoulder in an effort to stabilize his wobbly footsteps. "You sure you don't want to—"

"Not— _yet."_ Fitz's voice is as shaky as his steps. "It has to hit the five-minute mark first." He backs away from Mack and takes baby steps back to the center. "I know what I'm doing, trust me, we have to keep—"

"—the variables under control," says Jemma, finishing his sentence as usual. "Otherwise the results won't prove anything."

Skye throws up her hands. "Okay, okay, have at it. But if needles get involved, I'm out."

Of course, none of them remember the nefarious Law of Wrong, otherwise known as If Anything Can Go Wrong It Will.

And it comes back to haunt them not two seconds later, when Fitz takes one unsteady step too many and trips over his own feet.

"Fitz!"

Jemma instinctively lurches forward and catches him seconds before he hits the ground. (The stopwatch that was once in her hand falls instead, but she doesn't appear to mind or even notice.) And in that instant, despite the fact that there's still one minute and forty-five seconds left before the five-minute mark is reached, Fitz's eyes flutter open.

His blue meets her brown, and the last pieces of destiny fall into place.

"Jemma?"

The name escapes Fitz's mouth like a questioning incantation. He stares at her, eyes wide, mouth open, the unspoken implications hanging in the air.

She blinks, astonished, dumbfounded, confused—and then she realizes.

"Oh."

They stay there, frozen in place, Fitz in Jemma's arms, trapped in the kind of moment usually reserved for movies.

It's Skye who breaks the silence, her exuberant "YES!" loud enough to wake the ghost of Thomas Jefferson himself. "Called it!" She slides up to Trip with a Cheshire-Cat-sized grin on her face. "Pay up!"

Trip reluctantly rifles through his wallet and hands her a twenty-dollar bill.

Meanwhile, Jemma finally awakens from her haze and pulls Fitz to his feet. "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah." Oddly enough, Fitz doesn't seem at all bothered by the collapse of his experiment. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm..."

"It was just a tweet, you know," she insists, more to herself than anyone else. "It doesn't mean anything, it's ridiculous, why would the Jefferson Memorial control my future marriage? I'm not even _going_ to get married, not for a long time yet..."

But even as she speaks, she grabs Fitz's hand and entwines their fingers together in an unbreakable web. Fitz smiles, Jemma nods, and the next thing anyone knows, they're moving away from the rest of the group, talking in low, tentative voices, possibilities dancing in the air.

"Calling it now; they'll be smooching before New Year's," Skye stage-whispers to her remaining friends.

Mack shrugs. "As long as they don't turn into Lance-and-Bobbi 2.0, fine by me."


End file.
